


And Some By Virtue Fall

by poisonivory



Series: Rise and Fall [2]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: M/M, Seven Deadly Sins, Seven Heavenly Virtues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-10
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-19 11:24:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5965558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisonivory/pseuds/poisonivory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt Murdock and the seven heavenly virtues. Well, at least as far as Foggy's concerned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Humility

**Author's Note:**

> The sequel to [Some Rise By Sin](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5889094/chapters/13573300). Title, again, comes from _Measure for Measure_.

_“You are a hero.”_

_“I’m really not.”_

Foggy figures probably anyone would deny being a hero, maybe even with something akin to the adorably bashful smile Matt had deployed, but it takes less than a week of living with the guy for Foggy to realize he’s not just blowing off praise because it’s the socially acceptable thing to do. He genuinely doesn’t think he’s a hero.

In fact, Matt doesn’t seem to think much of himself at all. Oh, he knows he’s cute, mostly because no one, including Foggy, can seem to keep themselves from commenting on it. And he has this unbearably cocky smirk that comes out whenever he wins a mock debate in class, or even a playful argument with Foggy. Foggy doesn’t actually mind losing all that much because he gets to bask in that smirk - which is totally breaking his rule about not mooning over his hot roommate, but that’s not the point. The point is that Matt Murdock preens like a satisfied cat when he’s pleased with himself, and he has reason to be pleased with himself fairly frequently.

It’s when they move beyond the more shallow accomplishments that things sort of...fall apart a bit. It’s little things that stick with Foggy, like the baffled look on Matt’s face when Foggy invites him out to a party, or to dinner with the people he’s befriended in his Punjabi class. Or his surprised smile whenever Foggy laughs at one of his jokes. Or when the girl Matt’s been seeing for three weeks dumps him unceremoniously, and Foggy claps him on the back with a gentle, “Hey, forget her, buddy. If she can’t see how great you are, she doesn’t deserve you.”

Matt kind of shrugs, as if he doesn’t care that much. He’s forgotten, apparently, that Foggy can see how pitiful his face looks. “Nah. I’m not the greatest boyfriend.”

“Bullshit,” Foggy says. “You’re a great roommate, why wouldn’t you be a great boyfriend?”

Matt laughs. “I’m not that great of a roommate either, Foggy.”

“ _Ennnh_.” Foggy makes a game show buzzer noise. “Wrong. You’re the _best_ roommate. I took a survey and those were the results.”

“A survey, huh?”

“Yep. The results were conclusive.” Foggy’s hand is still near Matt’s shoulder, so he indulges himself and gives it another friendly pat. “World’s greatest roommate, friend, and drinking buddy. Sorry, you’re not wiggling out of this one.”

Matt’s wearing the same disbelieving, pleased expression he had on when Foggy called him a hero. “You’re telling the truth,” he says.

“Uh, duh? Honesty’s kind of my jam,” Foggy says, and spares a bitter thought for whoever taught Matt he wasn’t worth spending time with. Either way, Foggy’s determined to make up for it from here on out.

“Well,” Matt says, and if he doesn’t look totally convinced, at least he doesn’t look totally despondent anymore either. “I guess lucky you, then.”

“Hell yeah, lucky me,” Foggy says, and hopes Matt’s knows he’s not lying about that, either.


	2. Kindness

“Mom? Have you seen Matt? I can’t find him anywhere.”

Foggy’s mom gives Foggy a wryly amused look. “Exactly how did you manage to lose a tall drink of water like that in an apartment this small?”

Foggy can match wry look for wry look. “Well, it’s a _little_ crowded here.”

An understatement. Foggy’s parents’ tiny two bedroom apartment that they pretend is a three bedroom courtesy of the too-thin and not-to-code wall between Candace and Foggy’s rooms is crammed to the gills with Nelsons for the family’s annual Day After Christmas party - and every single one of them seems to be wearing a garish sweater and talking at the same time. It’s the main reason Foggy’s on the hunt for Matt, actually - Matt put up with being dragged out to Foggy’s parents again for Christmas with admirable patience, but he tends to get overwhelmed by crowds. And Foggy’s family is a particularly _nosy_ crowd, with an abundance of aunts likely to call him a brave little thing and pinch his cheeks. Or his butt.

He finally finds Matt sitting cross-legged on the floor in the hall outside of the bathroom. It’s not the best place to set up camp, and people keep stepping over and almost on him, but it’s easy to see what’s trapped him: Foggy’s youngest cousin, five-year-old Emma, has made herself at home in Matt’s lap. Her eyes are red and she’s breathing in that hitching way that means she’s been crying and is still winding down.

“And, and, and they said I couldn’t play because I was too _little_ ,” she says plaintively. “It’s not _fair_.”

“That doesn’t sound fair at all,” Matt agrees, his voice very soft. Emma nods furiously, then leans in and wipes her running nose on his shirt. Matt _almost_ manages not to wince.

Foggy can’t help the stupid smile on his face as he leans against the wall next to them, but that’s okay - Matt won’t know. “Looks like someone shanghaied you there, Murdock.”

Matt tips his head in Foggy’s direction. “Hey, Foggy.”

Foggy frowns, realizing something’s missing. “What happened to your cane?”

“I believe it’s currently serving as a sword,” Matt says.

Foggy blows an annoyed breath through his nose. “Jason and Mikey, right? I’m gonna kill them.”

“It’s okay.” Matt looks a bit frazzled, though, the same slowly fraying expression on his face that he gets when he wants to leave a party or a bar, and as Foggy watches he rubs the heel of his hand against his temple - a sign of a burgeoning headache.

“Hey,” he says. “You want me to take over Emma duties so you can so hide in my bedroom for an hour or two?”

Emma makes a truly tragic noise, and Matt chuckles, then aims a devastating smile somewhere in the direction of Foggy’s heart. “It’s okay,” he says again, even though Foggy can tell he’s desperate for some quiet time. “Me and Emma are bonding, right, Emma?”

Emma throws him a huge smile that Matt can’t see, and Foggy knows she’s smitten. _You and me both, kid_ , he thinks, and just barely manages not to say it out loud.


	3. Temperance

Matt is picky.

No, Foggy mentally amends. His little sister Candace was picky the year she was eight and would only eat orange foods. Matt takes food sensitivities to new heights. He doesn't like the coffee from eight of the nine coffee shops near their office, or milk three days before the expiration date, or any fruit that's ever been in shouting distance of a pesticide, or artificial sweeteners, or cilantro, or processed meat, or...the list goes on.

But he never _indulges_ that pickiness, is the weird thing. He chokes down cheap coffee and iffy greenhouse fruit and crappy bodega sandwiches, and he thinks Foggy can’t tell by the look on his face how miserable it makes him.

“Why are you eating that?” he asks as he watches Matt Brave Little Toaster his way through an unappetizing-looking turkey sub. “You hate that deli.”

Matt shrugs and swallows. “It’s the closest.”

“You mean the cheapest.” Foggy is not new to his second job of Murdock-ese interpreter, and he’s savvy enough to read between the lines - the ones that say “Catholic orphanage” and “ascetic abstainment from worldly pleasures” and “Matt Murdock will martyr himself to any cause he runs across, no matter how slight, if you let him.”

Matt quirks a smile at him. “Well, we’re not exactly raking in the big bucks here, Foggy. It’s fine.”

So Foggy goes out of his way to stop at the one coffee shop Matt actually _likes_ before work most mornings, and picks up lunch without asking in the afternoons. He brings six packs of the weird microbrews Matt likes to Matt’s apartment when they hang out, drinks one, and “forgets” the rest in Matt’s fridge. He “accidentally” buys extra-soft shirts with no return policy in the wrong size, and shows up at the office with the fancy chocolates that cause Matt to make something dangerously close to an O-face and claims his grandmother sent them as a belated birthday present, then insists on sharing, loudly overriding Matt’s skeptical expression and polite demurrals. He doesn’t have a ton of money either - certainly no more than Matt - but he can spend a few dollars on this.

If Matt won’t spoil himself, Foggy will gladly do it for him.


	4. Charity

Matt may not be willing to spend a few extra dollars on himself, but he gives a buck to the homeless guy on his corner pretty much every day, or at least he does whenever Foggy’s with him, which is a fair amount of the time.

The one time Matt dragged Foggy to church, Foggy watched Matt give to the collection plate when it was passed around - and then, when Foggy tried to dig out his wallet, Matt stopped him and put a little more in for both of them.

And Foggy’s the one who opens Matt’s mail and reads it to him, which is how he knows that Matt’s been donating regularly to the orphanage where he grew up since he got his first paltry paycheck as an intern. Charities, it turns out, send a _lot_ of junk mail in return for donations.

But, Foggy thinks as he leans in Matt’s bedroom doorway and watches him sleep, it’s not money that Matt gives the most of.

It’s blood.

He’s glad he bullied Matt into bed. Matt’s deathly pale, like a washed-out copy of his usual self. He’s been scattered and distracted in the office, slow to smile and speaking rarely. When he stripped down to his boxers and undershirt, Foggy saw the constellation of bruises on his arms and legs that he’s usually alert enough to hide - not to mention a few new pink scars. Apparently the new suit can’t stop every blade.

Foggy knows he doesn’t consider those scars too high of a cost to continue his work. He’ll drag himself, bruised and battered, into the office all day to work as close to pro bono as Foggy will let him for the people of Hell’s Kitchen, and then into the streets all night until he breaks himself open on them. He’ll bleed himself dry for the city and never complain.

“It’s too high for _me_ , buddy,” Foggy murmurs. Matt’s out too deep for it to wake him. “I can’t afford it.”

Matt doesn’t move. Foggy sighs and goes back into the living room. It’s not good for his health to watch Matt too long like this; between the worrying and the wishing he’ll just make himself crazy.

There’s a pile of mail on the shelf in Matt’s hallway, presumably waiting for Foggy to come over and read through it for Matt. He rifles through the envelopes, tearing the credit card offers into pieces and tossing them in the garbage. There’s something from the orphanage - Foggy recognizes the return address - and he goes ahead and opens it. He’s had carte blanche with Matt’s mail for years.

It’s a card with a drawing of smiling children on the front. Inside it says: 

_Dear Mr. Murdock,_

_We got your donation. It was very generus. I wanted to write this card to say thanks for giving us money and for being a good example of christin charity. The sisters say you are a good man and I guess there right._

_From,_

_Gabe Lopez (age 9)_

Foggy stares at the card for a long time. He knows Matt gets these on a pretty regular basis. Apparently the nuns make the kids thank all the donors with these hand-drawn cards, though Matt has said, with a bit of mischief in his voice, that he got out of it via the blind exemption. Nine-year-old Gabe hardly penned it out of the goodness of his heart.

So why does Foggy feel like crying?

He sighs, and stands the card up on the kitchen table. He’ll read it to Matt when he wakes up.

Maybe if Foggy can’t convince Matt that he gives enough, Gabe can.


	5. Diligence

“So I was looking over the police report and, uh, it, uh. Um.” Foggy’s lost his place again, for the umpteenth time tonight.

Well, sue him. It’s a _little_ hard to concentrate on a case when Matt is boxing. Shirtlessly, because it’s in the nineties today and Fogwell’s isn’t air conditioned. And because Matt is a demon sent from hell to destroy Foggy’s peace of mind and general aura of casual _sangfroid_.

“Go ahead,” Matt says between blows. “I’m listening.” The punching bag creaks on its chain like it’s agreeing.

“Uh. Yeah. The police report says that it, um, that our client’s defensive wounds were consistent with, uh…” Foggy gives up. “Look, can’t you take a break?”

Matt stops the swing of the bag with a gentle hand and rolls his left shoulder in its socket. “Not really. I’ve been off this arm too long since I injured it last month. I don’t want to get out of shape.”

Foggy eyes Matt’s body, even though he knows he shouldn’t. “Yeah, not much danger of that, buddy.” Matt’s cut in a way Foggy rarely sees outside of the models on the ads for the gym Foggy’s a member of but never bothers to go to. His abs are frankly _implausible_ , and Foggy’s pretty sure that if Matt flexed the bicep of his supposedly injured arm, Foggy’s hands wouldn’t be able to go the whole way around it.

Of course, Matt’s body is also speckled with bruises, and spiderwebbed with so many scars that Foggy’s tempted to lock Matt in his apartment and never let him go out as Daredevil again. It wouldn’t work, he knows, but he still wants to try.

Matt rakes sweaty hair back from his forehead. “My reaction time’s slow. I need to stay in training. And we need to work on this case, so…” He flaps a hand at Foggy, clearly indicating that Foggy should keep reading through the police report.

“You don’t have to work _all_ the time, you know,” Foggy points out, and even he’s not sure if he’s offering an alternative or just worrying out loud.

Matt gives Foggy a half-smile that’s as heartbreaking as it is entrancing. “Hey, I can’t let you down now, can I?”

“Dirty pool, Murdock,” Foggy mutters, and Matt’s smile comes to full bloom. “All right, fine. Get back to your dance partner over there.”

Matt turns back to the punching bag, and Foggy focuses on the paper in his hands. No more distractions. If Matt can work two jobs on a day this hot, how can Foggy do less?


	6. Patience

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, the timing of these chapters worked out nicely. Happy Valentine's Day!

It says something about how insane Foggy’s life has become that he’s not all that startled by Matt climbing through his window at three in the morning. Though he gets more alarmed when he sees the blood streaming from Matt’s temple.

“Jesus!” he says as Matt removes his cowl and blinks away a trickle of scarlet.

“It’s not that bad,” Matt says quickly. “I mean, I thought it would be good for someone else to take a look at it. But it’s really not that bad.”

Foggy scrambles for his depressingly well-stocked first aid kit. “What happened?”

“I was staking out that warehouse on 49th, the one I told you about,” Matt says. Well, he doesn’t _sound_ concussed. “Third night and the dealer still hasn’t shown up, but he will.” His jaw is tight, determined, as Foggy comes back into the room with antiseptic and bandages, and Foggy knows Matt will get his latest prey no matter how long it takes. “Anyway, _this_ was just some stupidity with a mugger on the way home. Your place was closer, so...”

“Of all the times for Claire to go out of town,” Foggy mutters as he cleans out the cut. “They also have this new invention called a hospital, it’s super helpful when your _head comes open_.”

Matt looks squirrelly. “Sorry. I didn’t want to bother you, but...”

Christ, and he actually sounds sincere. “This? This is not bothering me,” Foggy says, carefully applying a couple of Band-Aids to the wound, which is barely bleeding now. “Having to write your eulogy would bother me.”

“I wasn’t sure if you were...I mean.” Matt fidgets. “I got close and I didn’t hear Marci’s heartbeat, so I figured it was okay.”

Foggy blinks. “Marci?”

Matt’s nostrils flare. “She hasn’t been here. In...a while? Or maybe ever.”

“Stop trying to smell my ex-girlfriend on my sheets, Matt, it’s weird,” Foggy says with no real heat in it. “And no, she hasn’t been here. Hang on, you’ve got blood all over your everything, let me clean that up.”

He dampens a towel in the kitchen sink and returns to Matt on the couch, tilting Matt’s face towards the light. “I thought you and Marci were…” Matt trails off as Foggy gently wipes the blood from his face.

“We’re not. And you don’t have to look so pleased about it, either,” Foggy adds, poking at the corner of Matt’s mouth where it’s curving up.

Matt immediately sobers. “That’s not...I’m not...I want you to be happy.”

“I am happy,” Foggy insists, and then, just in case it reads as a lie, “I mean, I’m not thrilled that I’m standing here wiping blood off your face in the middle of the night, but overall, yeah. Happy.”

But Matt doesn’t look any cheerier. “I know it’s...hard, being in my life. And I know that you’re still angry with me, and that I deserve that, but...you have to know, Foggy, I’ll wait forever for your forgiveness. And I’ll do it gladly.”

“Oh, _Matt_ ,” Foggy says, because he can’t not. “I’m not _still_ angry. I _get_ angry,” he admits. “At you when you’re reckless or too stubborn, or at this stupid world for doing...well, _this_ to you,” and his thumb strokes over one of the Band-Aids. “But this isn’t me carrying something around from that night, okay? I swear. You said we should move forward, and we have. Ta da! You’re forgiven.” And he leans in and kisses Matt’s temple above his wound before he can remind himself that this is a terrible, _terrible_ idea.

But.

But Matt lets out the tiniest gasp of a sigh, and turns into Foggy’s touch so that his nose brushes Foggy’s cheek. Just the slightest, softest movement, but it sets Foggy’s pulse pounding in his ears.

Matt blinks as Foggy draws back, and then his face falls. “Sorry,” he says quickly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to...I didn’t…”

“...Matt,” Foggy says, with a feeling like he’s standing at the edge of a rooftop, and lets his hand curve around Matt’s cheek.

Matt licks his lips. “Please,” he whispers, barely audible.

Foggy’s heart thumps bright in his chest, a joyous thing. “Really, Murdock, all you had to do was _ask_ ,” he says, and as he leans in to kiss Matt’s sudden smile properly, he thinks maybe his forgiveness wasn’t the only thing Matt was willing to wait forever for.

He’s not the only one.


	7. Chastity

“We should get up,” Matt says.

“Mm, that’s one option,” Foggy agrees, and leans up to mouth along the sharp angle of Matt’s jaw. Over the past two weeks he’s had plenty of reasons to amend his running mental list of ways and places in which Matt looks stunning; bathed in late Sunday morning sunlight and halfway between post-coital and aroused in Foggy’s bed is a very welcome addition. “I have a few alternative propositions I’d like to run by you.”

Matt laughs and turns into Foggy’s kiss. “I’ve already been propositioned this morning, Mr. Nelson. And acquiesced.”

“You say that like I stole your virtue. You were _very_ enthusiastic about the proceedings, as I recall,” Foggy points out.

“They were excellent proceedings,” Matt agrees. “But we can’t just lie around in bed all day.”

“Why not?” Foggy asks. “I mean, coffee, obviously, but once we bring the mugs back to bed, why not?”

Matt looks hilariously stumped for a long moment. Finally he furrows his brow and offers up, “Our wills should be stronger than the pleasures of the flesh?”

Foggy snorts and gives Matt another kiss - longer, more coaxing. By the time he pulls back, Matt looks more than willing to give in to the pleasures of the flesh. “You’ve got way too much Catholic school in you,” he says. “Me, I think we’ve earned this.”

“Well, I suppose…” Matt says, even as he pulls Foggy on top of him. “When Saint Peter asks me who dragged me down into a pit of sin and iniquity, though, I’m selling you out.”

Foggy beams. If this is sin, he’s more than happy to drag Matt into it. “Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They are not very good at Chastity. ;)


End file.
